


Inner Enemy

by CaptainHookness (GhostOpera)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Angst, Forced Prostitution, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Multi, Please read with caution, Rape
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-27
Updated: 2017-01-31
Packaged: 2018-04-28 10:28:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5087200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GhostOpera/pseuds/CaptainHookness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a case gone wrong, Aaron is kidnapped and forced into a human trafficking ring.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Two years, seven months, four days since he had last seen any of his team members, and his heart ached at the thought of them; Erin Strauss had probably pronounced him dead and told the team to drop the case. He just hoped that they didn't listen to her order.

 

HH had been all over the country in the amount of time he had been held captive. He had had about twenty different 'masters' and there were plenty more to come, as today was his auction date; which meant he was going to be bought by a whole new sicko. 

 

They were in a van, on their way to the auction - the van smelt of blood, sex, and sweat, and it made him sick to his stomach to think of all the people that had been here before him. He never did give up hope that the team would find him.

 

When they arrived at the auction, he was forced out of the van and down what he believed to be an abandoned parking garage. He listened as everyone greeted his captors and proceeded to tell one another the auction was starting.

 

He was first.

 

"Starting at seventeen thousand dollars - here we have forty seven year old Aaron Hotchner. Former FBI unit chief of the BAU, newly broken, good with his mouth. He still needs some obedience training." One must have raised his hand because he soon heard another yell "Eighteen! Do I see nineteen?" Aaron squeaked as the blindfold was ripped off; he squeaked, his eyes squeezing shut and whimpered as the auction continued.

 

"Sensitive to light, does well in a cage, speaks three languages; Lithuanian, English, and French. Do I hear nineteen?" Another man raised his hand.

 

Aaron's eyes widened, "Please..Just let me go..." he squeaked, hissing as he was hit across the face.

 

"Going once. Twice. Sold! For nineteen thousand dollars." Aaron squirmed as he was blindfolded again.

 

"Please, sir! I'll be good! Please!" cried Aaron as he was dragged away. Aaron cringed at the words that came out of his mouth; two years ago he would have never said such a thing, but after being prostituted, raped, and beaten - that Aaron Hotchner was long gone, leaving a hollow, broken man behind.

 

Aaron grunted as he was handcuffed and dragged away to a whole new environment; one he wasn't used to and didn't know the rules of. He wasn't sure if he was in a van or a truck of some kind,  but there was a step up and enough room to move around. Aaron felt a  hand through his hair and cringed.

 

"There there, pretty boy..." said an unfamiliar voice, causing him to cringe again, trying to shy away, "Now, now," the voice said again, "You're going to be a good boy for me, right? Reply only in French, I'm not letting you speak English, do you understand me?"

 

"Oui1," Aaron murmured, tugging off his shackles and looking up at his captor through the blindfold, "Pouvez vous enlevez ces2?" 

 

"I don't know yet," replied Hotch's captor as he pet his hair again, "So pretty.. I can't wait to break you even more. Make you my perfect whore." The man pushed a low groan from his throat and smiled before striking Aaron across his face.

 

Aaron suppressed a cry of pain and took a breath, "Pourquoi tu-fais ça3?"

 

His captor roughly pushed his fingers through Hotch's hair before pulling his head back, "I know all about  _Aaron Hotchner._ Don't try and profile me - you're not getting out of this alive. The second you try and escape, you are fucking dead."

 

Aaron gulped and hugged himself, "Oui, monsieur..4" he squeaked, bowing his head and sniffling.

 

"Hey, now," the man whispered, holding Aaron's head up, "Don't fall asleep on me now. We haven't had any fun yet, kitten."

 

Aaron let out a small whimper and shied away, "Non, je ne veux pas, s'il vous plaît..5."

 

"You don't get to call the shots, dear. Oh, you should know by now that you get punished if you try to refuse." Hotch's captor smirked to himself before shoving Aaron face first on the floor of the van, "You will do what I tell you, whore. Now shut your mouth." The man eased up, letting Aaron catch his breath before speaking again, "By the time your team finds you, you will be nothing but a hole to fuck. Now say goodbye to your team while you still have your voice." 

 

"Non6," Aaron squeaked, shaking his head, hissing as he was hit across the face. He tried his hardest to keep a straight face, "Just don't. My team will find me. They will kill you if they have to." His heart sank as he realised he had not followed his master's rule: to only speak in French, "There will be hell to pay," he murmured.

 

"Only for you," the man said as his first made contact with Aaron's jaw, "Do you know what happens to naughty boys who don't follow rules?"

 

Aaron shook his head, spitting blood onto the floor, "Non6."

 

"When we get home, I'm going to show you to your brand new room. And I'll fuck you so hard in it you won't remember your name, you'll only be able to call out for your Daddy. Your whole body will be sore, kitten."

 

Aaron gulped and curled in on himself, "Non, s'il vous plaît.7" He let out a small cry and started to shake - every ounce of confidence he once had now completely out the window.

 

As they arrived to where-ever it was Aaron was now to be residing, he helped as he was yanked out of the car and led into the house, "You're staying in the basement. Until we can get your room all set up. now, your last owner said you were great in a cage. Is that true?"

 

"Oui1," Aaron sobbed, averting his eyes from the other man. He laid his head against the wall as he was pushed to the ground, a small whimper escaping his lips. As the blindfold was ripped away again, Aaron hissed at the light as it stung his eyes.

 

"Oh, you are sensitive," his captor purred, "But now that you can see me, we can start introducing each other. My name is Foyet, but of course, you're going to call me Master. And you will only speak to me in Lithuanian, and answer questions that only I ask you in French. Do you understand me?"

 

"Oui1."

 

Foyet smiled and flipped out the light, laughing at Aaron's sigh of relief, "So sensitive. You've been kept in the dark way too long, baby."

 

Aaron swallowed thickly and sighed, opening his mouth to speak, but quickly closed it when he was Foyet was pushing tons of rubbish aside, pushing some broken fence aside, which led to a small hole in the wall, just big enough to fit... a dog crate, to which Aaron would apparently be sleeping in, "Ar aš miega ten8?" he asked quietly, wrapping his arms around himself when Foyet nodded.

 

"You're living down here, Aaron. I trust you enough tot leave you out of a restraint of any kind, but the basement door will be locked, so you can't escape. So don't think about it." Foyet smiled - it wasn't any kind of friendly smile. It was sinister, evil, and dark. he pet Aaron's hair and pressed a kiss to his nose, "I'm going to break you, whore. Beyond repair."

~~~~~

 

Rossi slammed a file down on his desk and pinched the bridge of his nose, "Fuck" he grumbled, leaning back in his chair. He sighed and opened the file again, seeing Aaron's FBI picture and 'pronounced dead' date. It hurt to him to see such a thing. He had known Aaron for so long, trained him out in the field, and now Strauss was telling the team to pronounce him dead - like Aaron didn't know how to survive in such a situation.

 

"Hey, Rossi," said Reid as he opened the door, his tone of voice sounded slightly hopeful, which made Dave smile slightly.

 

"Yes?"

 

"We have a lead in Aaron's case. Call the rest of the team in. Penelope and I will be in the round table room. Hurry."  With that, Spencer turned on his heals and rushed back into the round table room.

 

"How is it coming, Garcia?" Reid asked as he bent down to look at the computer screen, "Can you trace the feed?"

 

"I'm trying, boy genius, but the IP address is bouncing everywhere. It's almost impossible to trace. I can possibly give this sicko a virus and then try and trace his feed, but I can't guarantee anything. I think it is a feed that is coming out of Texas. It seems to be triangulating from there. It is possible. I would definitely try and check it out there I will call the state police and have them keep a look out for anyone matching Hotch's description."

 

"Thanks, Penelope. You're the best."

 

"I know I am."

 

Just as Spencer stood up and closed the laptop, Derek, JJ, and Emily all came in, their faces filled with worry.

 

"What did you find?" asked Emily.

 

"A feed. I could hear Aaron. Or what I think was Aaron. They were speaking another language. I don't think Aaron speaks any other languages." Penelope hugged Spencer's waist.

 

"Yes, he does." Rossi chimed in as he entered the room, "He speaks Lithuanian, French, English, Bulgarian and a little bit of Estonian and Macedonian. As he progressed in the field, he needed to know a larger variety of languages. So he went to Lithuania to lean the language. Can you pick up what they are saying?"

 

"No, sir," replied Penelope, "They're using a really bad microphone. Probably the one that was built into their computer."

 

Rossi stepped closer and moved behind Spencer, "Open the feed," he ordered.

 

Penelope swallowed and slowly opened her laptop, clicking back into that horrid feed... Only this time, it had Aaron on full display, tied to a metal bed frame; blood running down his torso and a burlap sack around his head. He was whimpering in another language. One that none of them knew. 

 

"Are you sure that's Aaron?" asked Garcia as she turned her head away.

 

"Yes," Rossi murmured, "He has a tattoo on his hip of a flock of five birds. It's the black ink on his left hip. It's Aaron." He let out a shaky breath, putting his hand on Spencer's shoulder, squeezing it when he heard Aaron cry out in pain.

 

Spencer took a breath and closed his eyes, 'It takes five hours to get to Austin or Dallas from here. It's time we go and get on the jet, Penelope, you can trace the feed on the plane, right?" As Penelope nodded her head, Spencer grabbed his go-bag and quickly headed out the door.

 

"I guess we're going to Texas then," Garcia sighed, packing up her computer and a few of her things.

 

After everyone was on the plane, on their way to the DFW airport, Spencer sat with Penelope, watching as she narrowed the signal down to Anna, Texas. It was only 45 minutes from the airport, and they were about 3 1/2 hours into their flight. They were getting Hotch tonight. No matter what.

 

 

Once they had landed, Spencer hopped into one of the SUVs that were waiting and started the car, waiting for everyone to get in before speeding off, sirens blearing, "Rossi call the local precinct to have them meet us in the projects neighbourhood."

 

Rossi cocked an eyebrow, but did as he was told to - by his  _subordinate._ As Reid sped down the highway, he was trying to mentally prepare himself for what he may find. He just hoped Aaron wouldn't be dead.

 

"Kērjük, állítsa le.9" Aaron sobbed, his eyes falling shut after Foyet released deep inside him. It wasn't long before he felt something dripping down his thighs. The thought sickened him, and he refused to crack his eyes open.

 

"Hungarian?" chuckled Foyet as he pulled the burlap-sack from Hotch's head, "Say goodbye to all your viewers, baby. They watched me torture you and make love to you for quite a while, so they deserve a special goodbye, wouldn't you agree?"

 

"Búcsú,10" Aaron panted, his eyes just about swollen shut. He watched as Foyet turned off the camera, his tears mixing with the blood on his face.

 

"It's almost three o'clock, baby. It's time for you to get some sleep," Foyet smiled and freed Aaron from his restraints before leading him back to the small cage, where he slept. The light was turned out, Foyet bid him goodnight, pushed the wood in front of his cage and left. And all was quiet.

 

~~~~~~

 

It was now 04:30 in the morning and the team stood outside of a run down house that was owned by one George Foyet. No one was sure how Penelope had managed to dig up the name of address, but some things are better left unknown.

 

"I'm going in," Spencer grumbled, drawing his gun. He banged on the door a few times, "George Foyet, this is the FBI, open up!" When there was no answer, Spencer growled and kicked in the door, "FBI!" he yelled again.

 

"Clear," everyone else yelled as they scattered about the different rooms. All but Rossi, who was making his way down to the basement, followed by about four gunshots. Spencer rushed down the stairs and pointed his gun, but quickly lowered it when he saw Rossi standing over another figure.

 

"This is the same room as was in the video, Aaron is here somewhere." Spencer put his gun away and moved about the room, knocking things, "Light, Rossi, turn on the light." As soon as light flooded the room. Spencer took notice to the bess of boards against the wall. He kicked them aside, slowly uncovering the small hole in the wall. One last kick to the rubble, send everything crumbling down. Spencer gasped and blinked a few times to make sure what he was seeing was real, "Rossi!!"

 

There laid Aaron. On a blanket with a bowl of water next to him. His eyes were squinting at the light - the left eye filmed over. Spencer and Rossi knelt down, watching Aaron cock his head. Spencer pat his leg, "Come here, Aaron." He ignored the look Rossi gave him and opened his arms, smiling when Aaron crawled into his arms, shaking violently. Reid and Rossi exchanged glances before wrapping their arms around Aaron, cooing into his ears. Little did they know that he could only hear fully out of one ear.

 

"It's okay," Spencer cooed, "We've got you."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 1\. Yes.  
> 2\. Can you remove these?  
> 3\. Why are you doing this?  
> 4\. Yes, sir.  
> 5\. No, I don't want to, pleasE.  
> 6\. No.  
> 7\. No, please.   
> 8\. Do I sleep there?  
> 9\. Stop it, stop it.  
> 10\. Goodbye.


	2. The First Step Of Recovery

"So how is he?" asked Rossi as a doctor walked out of Hotch's room. She sighed and shook her head.

 

"All I can tell you is that you're lucky you found him when you did. I'm surprised he's still alive. he has damaged his left ear drum, damaging his hearing in that ear permanently. His visual cortex is damaged, causing him to go blind in his left eye. My best guess is that he was hit in the head pretty hard, or repeatedly in that area. He has clear signs of rape; anal tearing, DNA from several donors, which we are testing now, broken bones that didn't heal properly - we had to rebreak them. Of course he has a lot of cuts and bruises, and I can only imagine his psychological state. I strongly recommend letting him recover in our psych ward."

 

"Can we see him?" asked Spencer, as he shyly took Rossi's hand.

 

"He's pretty out of it, not to mention traumatised. Keep it on the down low, okay? Don't stress him out." The doctor smiled sadly and left them to Aaron.

 

"You go first," Rossi breathed, mentally preparing himself.

 

Spencer sighed and opened the door to Aaron's room, frowning when Hotch wasn't in his bed. He quickly scanned the room, his heart sinking when he saw Hotch curled up under the table in the corner of the room. He looked over at Rossi, who was still in the door way, and took a breath before making his way to the table. He kelt down and smiled at Hotch, holding his hand out, "Aaron? Can you hear me?" When the other man nodded, Spencer took a breath, moving closer, "Can you take my hand?" He watched as Aaron looked up and reached his hand out to take Spencer's hand - and right as he did, he yanked the young genius into his arms, mumbling incoherent words into the soft brown locks of his hair. Spencer sighed and ran his fingers over the grey cast on Aaron's wrist, "Shh, it's okay. You're safe now. Rossi and I are right here."

 

Aaron squeaked and sighed away from Spencer's touch and pushed him away, yawning. Rossi watched the two from the doorway and sighed, "Reid, I'll be right back."

 

Spencer opened his mouth to protest but Rossi had already left. He sighed ad looked back at Aaron, who was shaking and tapping on his temple, eyes wide with unknown fear. "Aaron?" he cooed, trying to get his attention, sighing sadly when the other man just flinched and covered his ears. Realising that he best keep his voice lower to try not to startle the already traumatised man, "Aaron," Spencer said again, this time his voice barely a whisper. Aaron looked up, cocking his head at Reid, "Can you speak?"

 

"Oui," Aaron answered, eyes wide. Spencer frowned and held his hand out, "You can talk in English. If you want to. That man can't hurt you anymore, I promise you that he's dead. Rossi shot him."

 

"Nuotraukas," Aaron squeaked.

 

"English, please," replied Spencer, "I'm sorry."

 

"Pictures."

 

"Of what?"

 

"Foyet. Dead."

 

"Rossi has them. We have to wait for him to get back. Though I don't know where he is."

 

Aaron hugged himself and closed his eyes, trying to block out all of the noise of the hospital. He hugged his knees and sighed, jumping a mile high when Rossi entered the room again, a few cups of coffee and one of jell-o in his hands, "I thought you might like some coffee, Spence."

 

"Thanks," Spencer replied, taking the warm cup, "And the jell-o?"

 

"It's for Hotch. If he's hungry? You hungry Aaron?" he asked quietly, kneeling down and holding out the plastic cup of blue, jiggly jell-o. Aaron only shied away and shook his head, eyes falling to Dave's hand. He huffed and let out a small cry before reaching for the plastic cup. He sniffed the substance before running his fingers over it before shivering and flapping his hand. He tossed the plastic cup away, eyes wide, "No, no, no.." he yelped.

 

Spencer nodded slowly and bit his lip, "Hey, Aaron - look at me," he hummed. Aaron looked up and whimpered, his eyes falling shut a few times before he slumped over, a long, painful whimper escaping his lips.

 

"Are you okay?" asked Rossi as he knelt down beside Spencer, looking at Aaron and watching him slump onto Reid's shoulder.

 

"I think he needs to rest," said Reid, softly petting Aaron's filthy hair. "Hey, Dave, can you hand me a wet paper towel? Or a few? I need to wash his hair."

 

Rossi nodded and made his way to the sink, dampening a few paper towels and handing them over.

 

"Thank you," Reid mumbled, taking the damp cloth and running it through Aaron's hair, holding in a gasp at all of the blood that came out onto the cloth, "Bless his heart.. I can't imagine what he's been through."

 

"I don't think I want to imagine," Rossi scoffed, "His stomach can't even handle solid foods."

 

Aaron opened his mouth, but quickly closed it when he heard his master's voice ring through his mind. He whimpered softly and curled in on himself, tapping on his temple again.

 

"Why is he doing that?" asked Dave, pulling up a chair and sitting beside the two of them.

 

"I think it may be a nervous tick, or a way of coping with his traumatic memories. I really have no idea... I've never seen this before." Spencer took a breath holding his hand out for Aaron to take again, "Aaron, listen... It's me, Spencer.. Take my hand." His voice was soft, soothing, and as innocent as he could make it.

 

Aaron watched Spencer closely, reaching his hand out to meet Spencer's, squeezing it with a strange, wide smile on his face, "Spence?"

 

"Yeah, it's me," he whispered, bringing Aaron's knuckles to his lips, "It's okay. He can't hurt you anymore. Never again. If you need anything at all, please tell me, I won't ever hesitate to get you something. Within reason of course."

 

Aaron nodded slowly and shakily stood up, his eyes squeezing shut with the pain that shot through him. He slowly made his way back to his bed, laying back and whimpering. His cheeks were a bright shade of pink from embarrassment. He hated how his teammates were seeing him so...Broken, so vulnerable. They had arrested Foyet, all of his STD tests had come back negative, HIV/AIDS test - negative. Everything that could have reminded him of Foyet was negative - the only thing that reminded him of the trauma of it all, and Aaron wasn't sure if it was really necessary to have such trauma anymore. Everything was fine, he was safe, George Foyet was dead.. There was no need for all of this trauma and hurt, right?"

 

"That isn't how it works, Hotch," Spencer chimed in as he sat down in a chair, "Did you realise you were talking out loud?"

 

"No, I didn't," Aaron murmured, yawning as he laid himself back, "But don't worry about it, okay? I don't really want to talk about it anymore. It makes me too anxious."

 

"Okay, then," replied Spencer as he sat back and watched Aaron awkwardly play with his thumbs, "Then let me talk about it, okay?" The genius took a breath and sighed, "Hotch, you've been through a very traumatic situation and it's all too natural for you to be traumatised after something like that."

 

Aaron stayed silent, hugging himself, "He said he loved me."

 

Pinching the bridge of his nose, Spencer wrapped his scarf around himself and stood up," I'm going to be right back. I'll be right outside, so just yell if you need me or anything."

 

"Okay," Hotch whispered, bringing a blanket over his head, "I won't need anything at all. You won't have to worry about me ever again."

 

Spencer tensed and let go of the door knob, "What do you mean, Aaron?'

 

"You won't have to deal with my trauma anymore. I have no reason to be traumatised anymore. So I'm not going to be."

 

"Aaron," Spencer sighed, "It doesn't work like that. As much as I wish it did, your mind won't let you. It's purely a subconscious, psychological way of coping with what happened." Spencer sat back down and crossed his legs, "I have offered to be your psychologist for all of this. I believe it will make you more comfortable, but if you wish to have a different psychologist, that's completely fine."

 

"I don't need a psychologist," Aaron grumbled, pulling the blanket off of his head, "I told you, Reid, I don't need to be traumatised about this anymore, so I'm not going to be." He crossed his arms as he looked at his subordinate, a scowl on his face.

 

Reid couldn't help but look down and roll his eyes. This was Aaron's way of coping with his trauma - by pretending there was nothing to be traumatised by. He took a braeth and scribbled a few things onto his notepad, "Listen, Aaron, I know you want to pretend like everything is okay for us, or because you're our unit chief, but you don't need to. We understand that you're traumatised - you have absolutely zero reason to try and pretend that everything is okay. I promise you that." Spencer smiled weakly and put his hand on top of Aaron's, "We're all here for you. All you have to do is talk to us and we'll listen and help you best we can. Though for now, what we talk about here is strictly between us... Now, do you think you are able to talk about your time with Foyet?"

 

Aaron searched Spencer's eyes for any sign that he was lying, but to no avail he steadied his breath, "I was undercover. It was... Late one night. I was walking back to my hotel room - and I had bee unarmed, and I guess that Foyet had been watching me long enough to know that. He struck me from behind with.. A crowbar. I woke up in a wooden room; in a cage. There was a lot of camera equipment - a-and he told me that I was allowed to speak in English only when we were on camera - unless it was solely specified that a viewer wanted me to talk in another language." Aaron wiped a few tears from his eyes and looked at Spencer, "I really don't want to talk about this anymore. Please."

 

"Okay. Thanks for sharing though. Remember.. this is going to stay between us. No one will know what you have told me here today. Do we have an understanding, Hotch?"

 

"Taip, žinoma"1  Aaron replied.

 

"Again, English, please."

 

"Yes, of course."

 

Spencer grinned and squeezed Aaron's hand, "I'll go and get Dave again, okay?" he hummed, fighting the urge to press a kiss to Aaron's forehead.

 

"I want to see Dave," Aaron whispered.

 

"I know you do. I'll send him in, but you should rest."

 

 

 

"Hey, Dave," Spencer called as he closed the door to Aaron's room, "Hotch really wants to see you. You should go in."

 

Dave nodded and headed inside, holding in a gasp when he saw Aaron, "Hey, baby.." he whispered, "Jesus you look horrible."

 

"Thanks, Dave," Aaron joked, grimacing as he sat up, "Fuck I'm so glad to see you. Alone."

 

"You're happy to see me!?" Dave squeaked out, "I haven't known where the hell you were for nearly three fucking years!" The agent took a seat next to Aaron and wiped a few tears away, "Baby I thought you were dead.. Every time they called me in, I was so afraid that they had found your body somewhere. Fuck I never thought-" Dave was cut off when Aaron pulled him down into a kiss, his fingers twisting into black locks.

 

"Just shut up," Aaron whispered, "I ever doubted that you would find me one day. Foyet was smart,but you were smarter. I would have killed myself ages ago if I doubted the love of my life. And here you are."

 

Dave smiled weakly and pulled Aaron into another kiss, savouring the much-missed feel of his lover's lips, "I've missed you so fucking much, Aaron."

 

Aaron forced a smile and squeezed Dave's hand, "I was always afraid you had moved on and found someone else."

 

"We have been together for over six years, Aaron, I couldn't do that even if I wanted to." Dave kissed Aaron's hand, noticing the way he fought the urge to yank it away, but he smiled anyway, "I've loved you for far too long to abandon you like that."

 

Aaron hummed in contentment and closed his eyes, "Did you really not marry anyone else while I was away?" he teased.

 

Dave tried to ignore the ease in his love's voice as he said 'away', but made himself laugh at the joke anyway, "No, you're the only one I want to marry."

 

The two sat in silence for a while - it was a comfortable silence, but Dave's mind was raging with questions. Why was Aaron so calm, as opposed to how he was not even an hour ago? What did Foyet do to him? He wanted to ask Aaron so many questions, but for now, he was just happy to have the love of his life back in his arms once again. Though he couldn't help but over think the one question that he knew would keep him awake at night.

 

Did Aaron think that he was in love with Foyet too? More so than his love for Dave?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back from the dead once again with a new addition to this fic. After I think 2 years?? I don't know, but I hope you all enjoy it. Feedback encouraged! I'm so sorry that this was all over the place. Picking back up after not worrying about it for a year and a half takes a toll on how it's formatted. I hope everything makes sense!
> 
> 1\. Yes, of course.


End file.
